The Demon Within
by AODtrunks lover
Summary: M for violence later and possible lemon! Piccolo's and Gohan's secret feelings for one another reach a boiling point, and mass destruction follows.
1. Piccolo's heartache

**Author's Note: Umm...I don't like Videl. She's now officially never existed (at least not in this fanfic anyways) :). But, seriously, for this fic to work; she can't exist. Sorry Videl fans!**

Piccolo sat quietly near his favorite part of the waterfall. His breathing was calm and even, his body floated in mid-air, and an aura of intense thought radiated outward from his still form. The world had been at peace now for several years, since the defeat of Buu. For this reason, his meditation did not concern the spars of past or yet to come. No, only one thought permiated the Namekijin's mind.

_"Gohan."_

The kid hadn't been by to see him in years. Or had it merely been months? The Namekijin'smind regestered both months and years without Gohan as one and the same.  
_  
"Piccolo-san! Please don't leave me! I can't do this without you!"  
"I could never forget you in a months time Piccolo-san!"  
"Y-you're my best friend Piccolo-san."_

"Don't lie to me." Piccolo said unconciously.  
Piccolo's fists clenched menacingly. His teeth were ferociously bared. But, the only thing he was aware of, was the tightening of his throat. He sank from his meditative postition to his hands and knees on the cold, hard earth. He began to shake, tryingto keep the tears in his eyes from rolling down his jade cheeks.  
"Gohan...you...stupid fucking brat!" He cursed allowed.  
He coughed, spitting out small specks of mucus.  
"Gohan...you...you dirty son of a whore!"  
Cursing Gohan's name was the only thing Piccolo felt he could do. The only thing he could do since he gave up dening he loved him.

Piccolo knew he loved Gohan as more than a friend, student, or son long ago. Perhaps, deep inside, Piccolo always knew he loved him. Ever since the destructive power of the Cell Games. But, he'd blocked it out of his mind. Gohan was only eleven, and Piccolo thought he had enough to deal with. The death of his father, his new baby brother, his guilt...Piccolo knew Gohan couldn't handle the repulsive advances of his sensei.  
Then came the years with infrequent visits. Piccolo told himself he didn't care. After all; out of sight, out of mind. But when Vegeta had announced that Gohan was dead...Piccolo could've sworn he'd heard his heart rip in two pieces.  
Then, Gohan came back; but as a highly trained warrior, bent on only destroying Majin Buu. Piccolo remembered the feeling of wanting to just hold him and kiss his pale lips. But, again, Piccolo stifled the feeling.

Two smooth rivers on his face brought him back to reality. Sitting up on his knees, Piccolo used the palms of his hands to destroy the two rivers of feeling. And in that spot he stayed for who knows how long, the only sign he still lived where the occasional gasps of air.  
"What am I going to do? I can't go on living this way." Piccolo asked aloud.

"You're not gonna tell him, are you?". A voice from nowhere.

Piccolo stood up quickly.  
"Who's there?"  
"Nevermind that now. I wanna know if you're gonna tell him or not?"  
"I...I"Piccolo stammered.  
**"YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!" **The voice shouted, knocking Piccolo back onto the ground.  
"You honestly think he'll be all lovey dovey back at you? I'll tell you what he'll be...Distgusted. You confess feelings, and face it; you'll be ostracized. It'll be just like the old days. When the humans would chase you, shoot at you, and call you all those nasty names."  
Piccolo looked at the ground and squinted his eyes. What this voice was saying seemed to be true.  
"Now, think about this" The voice continued. "When were you the happiest? Now? When you trained the squirt? Or when you had only yourself?"  
Piccolo had to seriously consider that one. He certainly could say he wasn't happy now. He was more worried when he had trained Gohan. Maybe the best answer was when he was alone.

"I thought so." The voice said, as if reading his thoughts. Piccolo wasn't sure if he found this voice comforting or frightening.  
"Who are you?" He asked.  
"Don't worry, you'll see soon enough."  
Moments later, Piccolo felt entirely alone. But not in a bad way. It was if the voice had beena painkiller; allowing him to think clearly without the normal jolt of pain. He calmly resumed his meditation...Gohan and pain free.

Somewherein the depths of Hell, a long dead enemy began to laugh.


	2. Gohan's Shame

Gohanlaid quietly on his bed. He lay on his side and gazed out the window of his crampped apartment, staring at the beautiful sunrise. The rays of orange, red, and yellow pierced the ordinarily dark room; illuminating Gohan's handsome face.

_"It's not so bad once you get used to it, is it Gohan?"_

Gohan began to whimper. "Maybe not for you." He whispered. Tears quietly streamed down his cheeks, soaking into his pillow. He had been doing this a lot lately, especially at the sunrise. The sunrise always, without fail, reminded him of Piccolo. The sunrise had been his and Piccolo's time since he had trained with him for the saiyans' arrival. This was the time of day when he could get the usually quiet and stoic namekijin to speak. Now it was as if the Kais themselves had crafted the most beautiful time of day to be the most painfull.

A small, dark spot formed on the pillow where Gohan's tears had collected.

He hadn't seen Piccolo hardly at all since the Buu incident. And even then, he hadn't really had time to sit down and really talk to him. And now, he wondered if Piccolo would even speak to him. Gohan didn't think so. If someone had avoided him for several years, Gohan didn't think he would speak to them; so why would Piccolo speak to him?  
But, then again, Gohan had a good reason for avoiding Piccolo.

_Flashback:  
It had been a few months since the Cell Games, and Gohan was close to thirteen.  
Gohan wandered aimlessly through the woods, half-heartedly looking for Piccolo. On this day, Gohan had made it personal goal to sneak up on Piccolo without him noticing. He'd been practising for several days, and today he was confident he could catch Piccolo off guard.  
Gohan just wasn't prepared for how off guard he would find Piccolo.  
Gohan, sensing Piccolo nearby, slowly climbed the nearest tree and peered in the direction of his best friends ki. What he saw mystified him._

_Piccolo was obviously nude, waist deep in the water under the waterfall. He was casually bathing, completely unaware that Gohan was watching. Gohan watched in amazement as Piccolo's hands slowly ran the soap on his rock hard muscles.  
"He's...beautiful." Gohan thought.  
Gohan knew what he was doing was perverted, but he couldn't take his eyes off Piccolo's body. He tried to concentrate on Piccolo's face, but he couldn't help his eyes wandering lowering to Piccolo's abdomen, and lower yet to his..._

_Gohan broke from his trance and, still concealing his ki, ran home as fast as he could. As he ran up towards his home, he took note of the fact that his mother's car was gone. He ran closer to the door to see the note. _

Gohan,  
went to store w/ goten.  
Be back by dinner.  
XOXO, Mom

_"Thank Kami!" Gohan thought desperately. He ran quickly to his room and lay down on the bed. The 'effect' of seeing Piccolo naked was still evident. He sank his head on the pillow, replaying the images from the waterfall. His breathing quickened as his speed increased. His muscles tensed,and Gohan was finding more and more difficult to concentrate. Panting his sensei's name, he came._

_It wasn't until later that night that Gohan actually thought about how perverted his actions were. He couldn't imagine how distgusted Piccolo would be if and when he told Piccolo his feelings for him._

_End Flashback._

Gohan wasn't able to look at Piccolo again without finding the image of him naked in the lake. And so, he believed if he didn't see Piccolo at all, both of them would be happier. Piccolo was always hinting that Gohan didn't need him anymore anyway.

Gohan's face pressed into the pillow to stifle a few sobs.  
After a few minutes of sobbing, Gohan felt he could find the strength to make it through another day without Piccolo.


	3. The Plan

A long dead enemy sat in the shadows in the very bowels of hell. He chuckled as he witnessed the son of Son Goku balling his eyes out. He sat back contently on his own throne, personally crafted by the very demons of hell. His talons lightly scratched the material as his 'high' wore off.

Yes, suffering had always been a 'high' for him. A gratifying rush. But, just like a drug, the feeling wore off or grew too dull. He had watched the suffering of these two beings for years now, and he knew he would soon have to act. For the rush of watching their suffering was growing dull.

He stood up from the shadows. His green hands clenched into fists. He popped a few joints in his taut, green neck. He ran his talons up a pink muscle absently.  
Piccolo Daimou was ready for action.

He snorted in anger as the vision of his whelp returned to him. He was distgusted to see his procreation kneeling in such disgrace, and crying for a lost love. Daimou had wanted to vomit.

Daimou had died the better part of twenty-five years ago, but he had never stopped waiting for the day when Son Goku would join him in the afterlife. To make sure he got a front row seat, Daimou had stolen viewing crystals from the kais. He'd hung these gigantic crystals in his 'ruling room', as he called it.  
What he saw did not please him in the least. When his whelp trained the brat. When the whelp died for the brat. When the whelp gave upevil.  
Over the years Daimou's rage turned to planning. He knew that he could never simply wait for the whelp to die in order to punish him. No, he had to think upa better plan than that. So, for years, he waited for his muse to strike. And strike it did.

Daimou watched the little demons of Hell when he was bored. Watching them torment the souls of the damned gave him a pleasure bordering on ecstacy. In watching the demons Daimou got his idea. He saw how the weakened souls of humans on earth were routinely possessed. He watched the demons slip into their weakened bodys and wreak havoc throughout the land.  
In this idea, Daimou channeled the viewing crystals to the two figures witched caused him the most rage; The Whelp, and The Brat. He channeled the viewing crystals to not only see their bodies, but their minds and souls as well. Whenever he watched them, he shook with anticipation at the thought of one of them possessed.

Daimou had thought over the aspect of their possession for some time, ad he had come to a brilliant conclusion. Instead of simply sending a demon or two to take care of the possession, he'd decided that the job was far too delicate for a mere demon to handle.  
No. This job would take the Demon King.

"It is time." He whispered eerily to himself.

He slowly walked over to his throne. Some time before he'd rested a large, wooden box on the armrest of his throne.  
The box was the size of a gigantic candy box, rectangular in shape, and black in color.  
Daimou slowly opened the box to reveal a large daggar.  
The daggar had a long, black, hollowsheath and was roped in a rough material. At the endof the sheath there was a glass-looking heart. Not a mushy, Valentine's Day heart. A realistic-looking heart. The blade of the daggar wasn't particularily long, but it was sharper than the sharpest man-made razorblade that could ever be found.

Daimou smiled. Using the blade he sliced through the shoulder of his gi, letting it hang down likea toga. Placing both hands on the long, black sheath, Daimou aimed the blade at his heart. Gritting his teeth, he plunged it in.  
Daimou stifled a scream as the blade plunged all the way into his black heart. He felt the daggar grow heavier as the sheath filled. Soon, the translucent heart at the top filled completely.  
Daimou extracted the daggar quickly and completely. Taking note of the gaping stab wound in his chest, Daimou quickly regenerated, lest he be weakened and forced to put off his plans. He turned his attention back towards the daggar. The translucient heart had filled, but not with violet blood, but with blackness. The blackness of his very soul.

Daimou clutched the daggar tighter in his iron-clad grip. What seemed to be a frightening smile pervaded over his face. He began to laugh heartily, the bone-chilling sounds reverberating down the halls of his 'ruling chamber'. He materialized a new gi quickly.

"Cymbol! Get your lazy ass in here now!" Daimou growled to the darkness.  
Cymbol hesitantly stepped forth, worried that his sire was in another one of his moods.  
Daimou smirked over his shoulder to his lizard-son.  
"Worry not. You just have to help me on a small job." Daimou assured him.  
Cymbol's enormous tail swayed back and forth inapparent satisfaction.

The two effortlessly walked pass the oni towards the secret passage out, slipped around King Yemma, and began to head towards earth.

Daimou smiled. He'd have his vengence one way or another.


	4. Possession

Daimou slowly eased down to earth, all the while surpressing his ki and dragging Cymbol behind him. From time to time, Daimou would stop his flight, gaze around for his whelp's ki signature, and then continue flying. It took nearly four hours of painfully slow flight, but he found him.  
Daimou stood just out of Piccolo's sight, and kept his ki just low enough not to be detected. He smiled.

"You know your part," He rasped to Cymbol.

Cymbol lowered his head so that his two horns were aligned with Piccolo, and charged. He snorted dust as his massive nostrils all but scratched the ground.

Piccolo nonchalantly opened one eye to see what exactly dared challange him, only to see a godzilla-like creature baring down on him. He barely avoided the two enormous horns, when the creature turned and began to charge him again. Piccolo quickly jumped into the air in order to better see what he was up against. He felt himself gasp in surprise.

"Cymbol?" he asked dully, not quite sure if he was seeing right.

Cymbol stopped dead in his tracks, and stared up at his 'brother'. He took great pleasure in the look of astonishment that the green face before him held. He smiled, proudly displaying rows of razor white teeth. For a dinosaur, he possessed more malice than most beings gave him credit for.

Piccolo quickly shoved his surprise aside at seeing his large 'brother'. He replaced it with his typical stoic attitude.  
"How did you get out of hell?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Cymbol twitched as he heard Daimou's telepathic voice.  
"It's all going according to plan."  
Cymbol snarled and leapt at the green man in the air.

Piccolo easily and effectively sidestepped Cymbol's brazen attack. He watched carefully as Cymbol turned and roared before charging again. This time, however, Piccolo wasn't as careful; Cymbol effectively tore the cape fabric from his shoulder weights.

Daimou watched carefully from the shadows, still just out of detection.  
"Come on," he thought viciously "Come on you miserable prick, take off the weights." He ground his teeth together in an effort to stop the rage from erupting from his mouth. His talons dug into tree bark.

Piccolo still hovered in mid-air as he watched Cymbol viciously shred what was left of his cape.  
"You wanna play rough, ya bastard?" Piccolo asked quietly, "Let's play." He threw down his turban and his shoulder pads.

Daimou gasped in delight. "Just a little longer."

Piccolo took his turn in charging the great beast, turning at the last moment and giving Cymbol a good kick in the eye. Cymbol roared in pain as he felt something pop in his socket. His large teeth and jaws snapped and clenched at Piccolo's movements, but none made contact.  
Piccolo smirked to himself, not only was he going to win; but he was going to win without even breaking a sweat.

Without warning, Cymbol's tail shot out like a harpoon. The large, scaled apenditure caught Piccolo across the chest and hurtled him backwards. He felt two large, clammy hands grasp his armsas he fell back. He looked up to see Cymbol clutching him. Cymbol wrenched his arms back, consequently forcing Piccolo to his knees.  
"Bastard." He spat.

"Now, now theres no need for foul language...son."

Daimou stepped from the shadows, looking both happy and angry. Piccolo could see his left eye twitching as he approached. He felt his heart begin to beat faster than ever. He felt his breath increase and burn his throat. Daimou was effectively scaring the hell out of him.  
"What do you want?" Was all he could choke out of his barren throat.

Daimou chuckled, the vision before him was simply hilarious. Seeing the weak little punk scared and trembling on his knees made all the work worthwhile.  
Daimou lashed out and kicked Piccolo in the jaw; drawing a startled grunt from the younger namek.  
Again, Daimou chuckled.

Daimou beat on Piccolo for several minutes, gleefully venting some of the anger, frustration, rage, and hate he'd gathered in his years in hell.

"Stand him up." Daimou commanded. He reached down into his belt sash.

Cymbol obeyed the command, quickly dragging Piccolo off his knees and onto his feet. He tightened his grip on his forsaken brother as he began to squirm. Cymbol smiled again, with his rows of razor-sharpteeth, he knew the show was about to start.

Daimou reached up with one hand and tore Piccolo's gi at the shoulder. He pulled the large daggar from it's confines in his belt.Daimou's face set into a mask of anger once again. He waved the tip of the daggar in Piccolo's face. Piccolo's eyes cautiously followed thetip withhis eyes only, suddenly fearing what Daimou would do even more.

"It didn't have to come to this, Majunior." Daimou saidquietly.  
Piccolo's eyes snapped back to Daimou's face.

"...ButI guess Ishouldn't have sent a boy to do a man's job. I just gotta finish what I started."

Daimou raised the daggar and plungedit intoPiccolo's heart. Piccolo's head gave a dull thud as he slammed it back against Cymbol's body. He gave a sharp report of pain, which tapered off into a dignified whimper.Even in pain, Piccolo wouldn't give Daimou the satisfaction of watching him squirm.  
The daggar's hollow sheath began to empty into Piccolo's heart. Piccolo could feel something inside his chest. A heaviness...No a darkness was filling his heart. He stifled another cry of pain.

Daimou looked down at Piccolo's feet. Already his normally purple gi was already turning a midnight black; and Daimou's feet were disappearing. He pressed harder on the daggar.

Within minutes Daimou's form was gone. Cymbol still held tightly to Piccolo, whose gi was now a fullmidnight black. He lowered his head back to it's normal position.  
"Let go of me, moron." He commanded.

Cymbol obediantly let go of Piccolo, suddenly and inexplicably becoming frightened himself. Piccolo forcefully removed the daggar and let it fall to the ground.Slowlyhe gazed over his hands, and in the blink of an eye raised his hand and blasted Cymbol in half. He smirked to himself, and began to walk away.

"I should've done this in the first place."


	5. Control

Daimou sat hunched on a rock as he inspected his new body. With a neutral look to his face he flexed his arm. He smiled. His whelp was indeed stronger than he'd ever been. There was no doubt in his mind that he could've actually taken over the world at any point and time. Especially when Son had been somewhere completely out of earth's atmosphere for such a long period. Outside, the body was completely calm as it stared off into the distance.

Inside, the mind was a battle. The door to Piccolo's total control was shut, but unable to lock; Piccolo was the only weight keeping Daimou out.  
"Majunior, open the fucking door." Daimou said in his sickly-sweet mannar.Daimou knew that he had limited control over his whelp as long as he didn't have acess to the most inner-workings of Piccolo's mind.  
Piccolo braced himself more securely against the barrier. He felt the door vibrate and quiver each time Daimou threw his weight against it. He bared his fangs. "Go to hell, bastard." He said through the door.  
"I've been there." came the stoic reply through the door.  
Piccolo felt goosebumps trail up and down his spine. He knew that Daimou wanted full control over him, and more frighteningly, he knew that Daimou would go to any lengths to get it.

Outwardly, the body snarled. Daimou tapped the fingers impatiently on the rock he sat upon. He issued one last warning;  
"Majunior, if you keep me out you'll be sorry!"  
From inside Piccolo's mind, there was no response. No insult. Silence.  
Daimou stood in a rage.  
"Alright brat. You want to play rough, I'll play rough! Mark my words, YOU WILL SUFFER!"  
Daimou stood and took off for the city.

Gohan sat quietly near the large window in the back of his loft-apartment. It was a large, bay-type window. It allowed him to see the outskirts of the city, the parts nearly untouched by the city's progress. Gohan constantly compared the view to that of day and night; on one side was a forboding city, on the other was a peaceful meadow.  
Gohan felt uneasy. Normally a quiet sit near the window would relax him for a time, but today was different. Today, there was a tightening in his chest and a tingling in his legs. Something bad was happening. This would happen a lot when he was younger. Sometimes it was nothing,other times it was something horrific.  
Gohan nearly jumped out of his skin when he realized he wasn't staring at the view anymore. A pair of onyx eyes were mere inches from his, seperating them only by a few inches of glass. Gohan backed away enough to realize who it was. Piccolo hovered outside his window, smiling in the most sadistic way. Gohan's stomach did a flipflop,this figure did not seem like Piccolo. He had on a totally black gi, no cape or turban, and...Piccolo never stared at him that way.

Daimou saw the youth back away from the window, small clusters of fear dotting his mind. He chuckled inwardly.  
"Let the show begin."

Inside Piccolo's mind, Piccolo could see everything. He kept his place at the barrier which seperated Daimou from total control,but he felt his strength begining to ebb as time went on.  
"You see, Majunior. We could have done this so easily, but you had to force me to do this." Daimou's voice echoed in the silent halls of Piccolo's mind.

The glass of the window shattered as energy radiated outward from Piccolo. Gohan shielded his eyes with his shirt sleeve, feeling specks of glass bombard what flesh was exposed. When he dared remove his sleeve, he saw not only had Piccolo entered the room, but he was advancing toward him. Gohan couldn't react properly. He couldn't find the motor skills to actually get up and run. He pulled himself backwards on the wooden floor, all the while staring at his advancing mentor. It wasn't until his back hit the wall that he found he hadn't tried to feel Piccolo's ki. As he felt it, he had no question in his mind.

"You're not Piccolo-san." He murmured.

The Piccolo impersonator grabbed Gohan by the collar of his shirt and lifted him off the ground. He lifted him until he was off his feet and at eye level with him. It smirked evilly.

"You're right."It said,"I'm not."

With that, the Piccolo impersonator fiercely kissed Gohan. Gohan tried to protest, but the response was a tongue being shoved down his throat. Gohan gagged. He beat on the impersonator, but the strong emerald hands forced Gohan's hands back against the wall. Daimou moved himself so that he had the child totally pinned between the wall andhim. The child was helpless. Gohan didn't realize it, but he had begun to cry.

Inside Piccolo's mind, Piccolo felt himself becoming both more enraged and more helpless. He was watching Daimou doing this to Gohan, and he wasn't oblivious as too what this was going to lead to. He heard Daimouon the other side of the barrier, he was laughing.  
"You sadistic fucker! Leave the boy out of this!" Piccolo shouted to his sire.  
"I'd love to whelp. But...you know what I what first."  
"What?" Piccolo asked, even though he knew the answer.  
"Let me in."  
"You'll let the boy go?"  
"You think I'd really do this if it didn't persuede you? The boy is nothing to me once I have full control."  
Piccolo eased off the barrier. He stepped completely away, and Daimou charged in.

Daimou surged off Gohan in an instant, his entire body convulsing in pain. Gohan dropped to the floor, watching in a mixture of fascination and horror as his mentor's body was being twisted. Tears still coursed silently down his face.  
A black ki raged off Daimou. He now had complete control over the whelp's body, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. He was going to finish what he started so long ago. Before stepping outside the shattered window, he turned to look at the boy.

"Your father is a dead man, and your world is history."

Daimou stepped out the window and was gone.


	6. Demands are Made

Gohan sat, staring at the spot where Piccolo had stood before disappearing out the window. His breathing was quick and shallow, he felt as if he were hyperventalating. He looked at the clock. The entire episode had taken less than ten minutes. It had felt like it had taken hours until he had left. Gohan, using the wall for support, slowly pulled himself to his feet. Then, as if reality caught up with him, Gohan dashed out the door as quickly as his feet could carry him. One word was on his lips;  
"Otosan."

Daimou hovered high above the city, chuckling to himself. His keen eyes passed over the inhabitants below.  
"Watch this." He commanded to the hostage within his son's mind.  
Two eye lasers shot out from his eyes, hitting a man as he walked down the street. Daimou laughed. The humans near the dead man scattered quickly, screaming occasionally.  
"You see how easy this could have been, Majunior? One dead, and the rest scatter! You could have easily pulled off this with no problem."  
From the inside of his mind, Piccolo growled at his sire.  
Daimou raised his hand and unleashed several small ki blasts. With the blasts came the extermination of a few more humans. Daimou chuckled.  
"Enough play time. On to buisness."

"But that's just it Otosan! It wasn't Piccolo who attacked me!" Gohan exclaimed to his father. It had taken him all of one minute to return to his home on Mt. Pauzo, and now he was trying to explain what he knew of the situation; which wasn't all that much.  
The TV blared in the background of the conversation, as Chi-chi had not bothered to turn it off when Gohan had barged in. Chi-chi sighed.  
"I knew that Piccolo wasn't a good character."She huffed.  
"It...Wasn't...Piccolo!" Gohan huffed, becoming more and more angry with his mother.Both of them argued for a few more minutes, until a strange noise stopped them. The TV wasn't blaring Chi-chi's andGoku's normal shows. It was humming.Just humming.  
The three of them slowly moved into the living room, as if in a trance. They all stared at the TV, as if they knew it had something valuable to say.  
In one instant, Daimou's mug appeared on the screen, and he didn't look all too pleased.

Krillen and Master Roshi must've both jumped six feet in the air when thegreen face appeared on their TV. Krillendidn't need to study the face on the screen, for he had seen it in his nightmares of long past. Somehow, the face was that of Piccolo, and yet, it was not. He had not seen that type of fiercemalice in Piccolo'seyesin decades. But the skin and facial features were identical to that of his ally.Then a thought ran across his mind, unbidden.  
"Piccolo is my ally, right?"  
He began to sweat as the green man began to speak.

All the world was watching, and Daimou knew it.  
"Son Goku."He began. "Show yourself and fight me once and for all. I will destroyyou as I should have done a long time ago. Now, if you choose not to cooperate and do battle with me, I will destroya city every half-hour. The choice is yours."  
Daimou stepped away fromthecamera lens and toward the door, although he had to step over the body of an actor, two security guards, and a passed out camera man. Daimou sneered in disgust as hehovered over the blood and gore which lay on the tiled floor.

"Goku-sa,you can't!" Chi-chi cried as her husband stood in a rage.  
"I have too! If I don't, he'll destroy everything!" Gokureplied, taking hold of his wife's delicate hands. They stared into each other's eyes for what seemed an eternity, knowing all too well that they would be apart again.  
"Gohan, I want you to stay here with your mother, and..."  
Goku stopped.

Gohanwas gone.

* * *

Whattaya think? I added a little G/CC thing in there for you, just because you've all been so nice. Keep up the reviews, I like what I hear! 


	7. Dealings

Gohan's heart was racing as he powered his way towards the power source that now belonged to Daimou. He grit his teeth as the wind spit debris into his face, causing small stinging sensations. The closer he drew towards Daimou, the more the ki would pulsate and hinder his flight, as if Daimou knew he was not his father and would not accept any other challenger. Using all his willpower, he blasted his way through the ki until he was directly behind the demon himself.

Daimou glanced unintrestedly over his shoulder at the panting young warrior before him. He turned his face away again; if it wasn't Son, he didn't care.

"Daimou!" Gohan yelled, trying to make himself sound braver than he actually was.  
"I have a proposal for you."  
Daimou's ears twitched, signaling to Gohan that he had the bastards attention.  
"You will not fight my father you will fight me, Son Gohan, instead."  
"What makes you think I would want to fight my enemy's whelp?" came the namekijin's stoic reply.  
"My father has been dead twice now, do you really want an undead man to fight? Or do you want a real challange in fighting his son, whom has never tasted death?"

There was a silence between them. To Gohan, it felt like he had stood there for hours, staring at the back that had once belonged to Piccolo. His heart lurched in it's confines at the mention of his love's name. He had never told Piccolo how he felt about him, and now it could be too late. The thought made Gohan's guts ache.

While lost in his thoughts, Gohan was slow to realize that a green arm had reached out and snatched hold of his throat. The talons dug into the top layer of skin, allowing small drops of blood to ooze outward. Even at arm's length, Gohan could see that malice in the demon's eyes. Daimou bared his fangs for Gohan to see.  
"Whelp," he said  
"You've got yourself a deal. I'll find you when I'm ready to fight."  
With that, Daimou released his captive's throat and flew off.

Gohan breathed deeply for a few moments, calming his adreniline-charged system. He had only one idea as to who could defeat a demon, especially one of Daimou's power and influence. He flew towards Kami's Lookout, and toward Dende.

* * *

_Meanwhile, inside Piccolo's mind:_

_Piccolo was bound to the wall in ki restraints. They bound tightly across his arms and legs, and every so often they would emit electrical shocks. The volts would vary depending on howDaimou felt at the moment. ToPiccolo, itwas asmall price to payfor keeping Gohan safe._

_"What do you think about that, whelp?" Daimou's voice pentrated his thoughts of escape.  
"Son's little brat has offered to fight in his father's place. Isn't that just precious?" He began to sadistically laugh._

_Piccolo strained toward him viciously.  
"Don't you lay a finger on him you sadistic freak!" he hissed between his bared fangs.  
"Or what?" Daimou asked, pushing his face into his son's. _

"We had a deal." Piccolo growled.  
"Demon's rarely keep their deals."  
_  
"I'm gonna kill you."  
"I'm already dead." _

Another round of thousand-volt charges jolted through Piccolo's inner system. As small cries of pain passed through his clenched and aching jaws, Daimou laughed. He couldn't wait for the whelp to see what he had in store for the other brat.

* * *

Dende clutched hard at his guardian's staff, a trait he had unconciously acquired in the pass few years. He had watched how Gohan and Piccolo had yearned for each other, and how much it had tore them apart to bury their feelings within themselves. And now, all he knew was, Gohan was going to have to be the one to either bring Piccolo back, or destroy both Piccolo and his sire.


	8. Getting Serious

"**WHAT!**" Gohan shouted, his voice echoing throughout The Lookout and seeping over it's edges. He couldn't believe what he'd just heard. His eyes filled with tears, his heart lurched and tore, and his hands shook almost unnoticably.  
"You heard what I said, Gohan. You know what you have to do." Dende's solem voice penetrated Gohan's ears and reverberated through the confines of his mind. He just couldn't believe it.

He had flown at his top speed for at least an hour, just to arrive at the Lookout and be told there was one and only one solution to getting rid of Daimou, and that was to eliminate the body he was in. That would mean to kill Piccolo. To Gohan; it meant his own death. He had stood in front of Dende for several minutes, just trying to fathom the idea of him joking about this. He waited for Dende to pose another solution. But he hadn't, he'd simply turned and walked away from him, and now Gohan couldn't take it.

"Don't you dare turn your back on me Kami no Dende-sama!" Gohan said, keeping his tone steady and harsh, intending to show that he meant buisness.  
Dende stopped dead in his tracks. He had never in his life heard anyone call him by his new full title, and the sound of it coming from Gohan was enough to send shivers down his spine. He turned quietly around to face Gohan again. Somehow, Dende noted, Gohan's eyes had gotten darker, his posture was straighter, and his eyes were blazing. He knew he'd have to listen to the demi-saiyan now.

Gohan continued.  
"Don't you dare tell me that there is no other way for me to save Piccolo. If I have to go to the ends of the earth and back, I will not murder one of my friends because someone else wanted to use their body for a few days. Now, tell me, how did Daimou steal Piccolo's body anyways; maybe we can reverse the process."  
Gohan hadn't realized how hard it was to simply call Piccolo his friend. He decided when this was all over, he'd have a chuckle about that.

Dende turned once again from Gohan and stared out over the edge of the heavenly Lookout. He didn't want to have to see Piccolo dead, either; but he didn't want the world destroyed because of one vendetta.  
"You're right, Gohan. There is another way, but..."  
Dende didn't have time to finish his thought, an explosion shook the very Lookout itself throwing the two young men to the ground.

* * *

Daimou threw his head into the air and laughed. The ground he hovered above had once been a prospering city, and now it was a barren wasteland. A crater. 

The remnants of buildings were piled and scattered across the ruined land. The bodies, or what was left of them, were scattered in an even greater disarray. The survivors pulled themselves through the reckage. Daimou could even hear a few crying for their lost loved ones. Some of the survivors then became the victims of Daimou's laser target practise.  
It was safe to say that this place was no longer even a shell of the city it had been moments before. It probably couldn't even qualify for a disaster area. It was way beyond that.

"Quite a wonderous sight, isn't it whelp?" Daimou asked his mind-captive.  
"_I'm gonna drag you back down to hell if it's the last thing I ever do._"  
was the reply from the inner sanctum of the mind.

Daimou sighed and rolled his eyes. His whelp could be such a kill-joy. Which was gonna make it all the more fun to kill the other brat with his bare hands.

* * *

Gohan and Dende carefully picked themselves up from the tiled floor of the Lookout deck. Gohan watched as Dende peered over the side, and then, covering his eyes in apparent sorrow, turn back around. 

The two young men stood facing each other for a long time before Dende spoke again.  
"Gohan...there is one other way. Daimou has a daggar, it's what he used to transpose his soul into Piccolo's body. If you can find it...You'll know what to do."  
Every word from Dende's mouth was laced with a sorrow that only came from being the Guardian of the Earth.

"Where do I find it?" Gohan asked.  
"Daimou possessed Piccolo somewhere near his training grounds in the woods. I believe he merely disgarded the daggar and didn't think to destroy it."  
Gohan turned quickly and ran toward the side of the deck, knowing where he had togo. But Dende's voice stopped him.

"Gohan...The use of the daggar won't guarentee that Piccolo will not die. Soul-separation can kill as well as any ki attack."

Gohan grimaced and flew towards Piccolo's training grounds in the forest.


	9. Battle

Gohan hovered over the greenery below him. He visually searched for the daggar, or at least a glimmer of it to give him a hint of it's general location. He'd been at this for a few minutes; all the while mentally untangling his raging emotions.  
He didn't know how to explain it, but he felt...dead. It was if he wouldn't let himself feel pain over Piccolo anymore. It was if, unconciously, he knew he was gonna have to ki...

"No!" Gohan said loudly.  
"No, I will not...I cannot let that happen to him!"  
Gohan's arms were shaking, and his teeth felt numb in his skull. He didn't want this to happen; it wasn't fair. Then again, nothing in life ever is. He looked solemnly over to his left, and saw the glimmer of a glass object.  
He landed a second later and stooped to pick up the sharp object. He absently ran his fingers over the sharpblade, somewhat fascinated by it's stainless shine; until he saw the spot where the blade met the hilt.  
It was covered in dried, purple blood.  
The blood of his love.  
Piccolo'sblood.  
Gohan slipped the dagger into his gi belt, and took off towards the ki of his enemy.

* * *

_Inside Piccolo's mind:_

_Daimou stood smirking near his captive son, enjoying the sound his torture brought forth from his traitorous offspring.  
His eye twitched, and he knew then that the fun was really going to begin._

_"This is your last chance, give up." Came the voice from behind him.  
Daimou looked back at his whelp with mixed humor and anger.  
"You know he'll beat you. Give up now or else..." Piccolo said defiently.  
"Or else what?" Daimou sneered in Piccolo's face.  
"What are you going to do? Huh? Let's not forget, boy,if the brat kills me; you die too."_

_Piccolo smirked.  
"It would be a small price to pay to see you dragged back down where you belong."

* * *

_

Gohan growled as he saw the namekijin imposter before him. Piccolo's eyes were closed, and he seemed totally unaware of his presence.  
Gohan unconciously tensed his stomach muscles, feeling the coldness of the blade tucked securely in his clothing. It was Daimou who roused him from his thoughts.  
"I thought I said I would find you when I wanted to fight." He said stoicly, never openning his eyes.  
"I decided I couldn't wait for this." Gohan replied, just as stoicly as his enemy had.

Before Gohan had a chance to react, a green fist connected squarely with his jaw and sent him back a few feet. He and Daimou stared at one another, before Gohan charged him. They engaged the all-out war on one another. Gohan's knee connected with Daimou's stomach. Daimou landed a kick to the back of Gohan's head. The back of Gohan's fist found Daimou's face. Soon they were moving so fast that even the trained eye would have a problem following their movements.

The fight continued like this for close to a half-hour. Periodically one of the warriors would momentarily tire, and that would be when the other would strike as hard as he could.  
It had been somewhere near forty-five minutes when Gohan knew his strength was beginning to ebb and disappear. His movements and reflexes were slowing, and his judgement as to where Daimou would strike next was becoming sketchy at best. That's when Daimou decided he would end it now. He too was begining to slow down, he couldn't go on like this forever. But, he wasn't going to end it fast though, no way. This was gonna be slow and painfull.

He charged the dark haired youth, and before Gohan could react fully, Daimou had him in a massive bear hug. Gohan had only managed to keep one of his arms out of the crushing force of the green arms encircling him.  
He let out a strangled scream as he felt a few ribs crack under the pressure of his attackers' grip.

Daimou pulled the brat's face down near his; he had to savor this one last moment.  
"Any last words, brat? Too bad you couldn't save your little friend here..."  
Gohan's face contorted in agony. Daimou leaned up so that his mouth was near Gohan's ear.  
"His heart broke for you every day."

Gohan couldn't take it. Those words shattered his last remnants of self-control. The self-control he'd been reserving; the part of him that had kept him from using the dagger. It was gone now. In one instant he'd pulled the dagger from his belt and plunged it hard into the namekijin's chest; into the black heart that resided within.

Daimou screamed. He didn't whimper, whine, or stifle; he screamed loudly. Gohan felt warm droplets of blood surge from his enemy's mouth and onto the side of his face and ear. Daimou, still howling in agony, backed away from Gohan.  
The dagger fell from the namekinjin's chest and onto the cold ground. Daimou fell to his knees, absently catching the dark substance flowing from the gaping wound.

* * *

_Inside Piccolo's mind:_

_Daimou and Piccolo both screamed as they both felt the searing pain within both of them. _

_Piccolo's bonds shattered, but Piccolo could only fall to the ground and continue his agony. _

_Daimou sneered violently.  
"I'll see you shortly..."_

_Everything began to grow dark in the cornors of Piccolo's mind.

* * *

_

Gohan stared in horror at the scene before him. Piccolo's body hunched over a gaping wound, which appeared to be leaking evil itself.  
Gohan could subtlely see Daimou's look fade from his mentor's eyes. All stood still as the essense began to thin, and blood began to take it's place in the wound.

Gohan saw Piccolo raise his eyes, not Daimou's, **His**. Gohan could easily see Piccolo was struggling to stay conscious. He never wanted anything more than to speak to him, to tell him he knew he had never intended to let his sire possess him; that he knew he had never wanted to cause such destruction. Piccolo broke the silence.

"Gohan..."

Piccolo collasped on the ground before his only love.


	10. Aftermath

Gohan cradled his mentor's body, whimpering his name over and over in a vain attempt in forgetting the events he had just witnessed. He didn't want to believe he'd heard that awful scream. He didn't want to believe that he had seen the blood coming from that gaping wound in Piccolo's chest. He didn't want to believe he'd seen such a heartwrenching look in Piccolo's eyes before he collasped. He didn't want to believe there was a half-clotted wound on Piccolo's chest.  
That's when it hit him.

The wound was clotting. That meant Piccolo's immune system hadn't shut down. That meant that...

Gohan gasped. This meant that Piccolo was still alive.  
Gohan's breath hitched and hiccuped with every breath he took. He felt so overwhelmingly happy that his beloved mentor wasn't dead in his arms. Gohan laid his head down on Piccolo's shoulder, not caring if more blood smeared his features. He tightend his grip upon Piccolo's unconcious form, imagining that Piccolo was hugging him back.

Gohan sat up and began the task of hoisting Piccolo up with him. Gohan knew full well that he could not bring Piccolo to Capsule Corp.for treatment, The Lookout wasn't the most friendly place at the moment, he doubted seriously if Master Roshi would welcome Piccolo into the Turtle House, and after the damage done to his apartment, he didn't think his landlord would be gungho on the idea of Piccolo staying there. Gohan frantically searched his mind for the answer to his problem.  
A sullen wind blew in from the far west, bringing with it the warmth and comfort of the desert.  
Gohan's mind snapped to attention, he now had his answer. With a quick hop into the air, he and Piccolo flew to the west.

"I'm cold." Was Piccolo's first concious thought as he lay on the cold stone floor. He had no idea were he was or how he got there. All he could remember was Daimou's scream, and passing out on the grass. Now he was on his back on some icy stone surface. He lay there in his own darkness for what seemed hours, before asking himself one question;  
"Is this hell?"

Gohan massaged the area around Piccolo's wound with the medicinal paste he'd made from various plants. All the while he watched the green face below him for any signs of discomfort, with every movement he made came a glance towards the handsome face below him. He couldn't believe how sexy Piccolo looked...even when he was unconcious. With his other hand,Gohan slowly began to lightly stroke his pecs.  
"His skin is so...smooth." Gohan thought whimsicly.  
Gohan took one last cautious look up at Piccolo's face,he didn't want Piccolo to wake up to see what he was doing to him. He couldn't help himself anymore.  
Gohan slowly lowered his head, and lightly kissed Piccolo's muscled chest.

Gohan froze when he heard Piccolo moan. He ripped his lips back from Piccolo's chest and staring into Piccolo's face, hoping he would not see anger there. He didn't. Piccolo hadn't even opened his eyes yet. Piccolo moaned again, twisting his head ever so slightly, and began to open his eyes.

Piccolo could only see a blurred figure leaning over him. He tried to sit up, but the pain in his chest forced him back onto his back. He couldn't move, which meant he couldn't defend himself. He could feel panic slowly filling his nerves. It wasn't until his eyes began to focus that his fear subsided. Looking down on him was the cause of both his heartache, and his heartbeat.  
"Gohan..."

Gohan watched as Piccolo struggled to speak to him. The wound in his chest was slowly seeping blood, mingling it with the medicine Gohan had placed around it.  
"Gohan..." Piccolo murmured.  
Gohan wanted to stop him, but he felt glued in his current position.  
"Gohan...I...I'm so sorry. I tried to stop him. I didn't want to do those things." Piccolo choked out to him.  
Gohan felt an underlying sense of being cheated. He wanted to here those three words he'd wanted to hear since he was thirteen. He almost felt like striking something to take the edge off his anger. What brought him back to reality was Piccolo pulling himself into a sitting position. What startled him even more was that Piccolo had never broken eye contact with him.

The two men sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity. Unbeknownst to both of them, each was wishing the other would just say the words each of them had wanted to hear for so long. It was Piccolo who finally broke the silence. He looked at the paste surrounding the wound on his chest.  
"What's this?" He asked, almost smugly.  
"It's for your wounds, sit back while I put the rest on." Gohan responded, sounding harsher than he really meant to be.

He moved closer to Piccolo's form, and resumed massaging the wound with the paste. Gohan could feel thefeeling inside of him growing even more heavy; he had never been this close to Piccolo. He found it alluring how smooth Piccolo's jade lips looked up close.  
Piccolo studied every feature he had come to know so well on the young man before him. He decided he couldn't take it anymore, he decided he didn't care whether Gohan was angry at him for this or not.  
"Gohan,"  
Gohan looked up, anxiously wondering what his mentor would say to him.

Piccolo pulled Gohan's face to his own, kissing him with all the passion he could.

* * *

Yeah, another cliffy. I just love doing that to all of you. You're all such great Reviewers. I'd like to give a special thank you to all my 'regulars'. It's all of you that encourage me to get onto here and update these fanfics. They're more successful than I had ever hoped them to be. Thank you. 


	11. The Kiss

For one split second, Gohan had no idea what was going on. His mind could barely register what his imagination had been planning for so many long years. He threw himself into the kiss, all the while thinking:  
"Oh my god! He's kissing me! Oh my god! He's kissing me!"

Piccolo had no idea what he was doing. He had wanted this for so long, and now that he had it, he had no idea how to proceed from where he was. He wondered what Gohan would do when he broke the kiss. Would he think he was disgusting? Would he say he never wanted to see him again?  
He felt Gohan deepen the kiss, and somehow all the other questions faded from his mind.

Gohan's hands slowly rubbed their way up Piccolo's jade arms, feeling every perfect inch. Piccolo's hands tangled themselves in Gohan's thick, dark locks; marvelling at how perfect they felt in his fingers. Gohan gripped Piccolo's shoulders a little tighter when he heard the stoic namekian moan.

Finally it was over, and Piccolo broke the kiss. Gohan sat numbly by his side as both of them stared in shock at the opposite wall of their cave. Neither could believe that they had done that. Both men panted breathlessly as they mulled over what to say.  
Gohan broke the silence the only way he knew how;

"Wow..."  
Piccolo looked hesitantly over at the young man at his side, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Gohan looked up at him just as hesitantly as Piccolo had him.  
"How long? How long have you felt this way?" He asked.  
Piccolo looked thoughtfully at Gohan for some time before he answered.  
"...a long time."  
Piccolo couldn't help but stare into Gohan's obsidean eyes for his answer. He had to know what the consequences were of this whole mess. He wanted to know if Gohan could ever forgive him for his silence for so many years, and his actions over the past few days.  
He had reasoned, if he had not made himself so vulnerable to Daimou, Daimou wouldn't have been able to possess him, and he wouldn't have threatened to...  
He cut himself off, he didn't want to think about Daimou was willing to do.

Gohan leaned onto his knees, so that his face was even with Piccolos'. Piccolo began to wonder if Gohan was going to spit in his face. Instead, he felt Gohan's hands glide up his neck until they were at base of his neck; where his head met his neck. Gohan pulled him into another kiss, this time deepening it to where their tongues battled for dominance. Gohan moaned as Piccolo's hands lifted his shirt and histalons lightly scratched him. He moaned even louder as Piccolo's tongue won out.

Both were breathless again as Gohan broke the kiss. Piccolo stared intensly into Gohan's eyes. He couldn't resist being smug.  
"How long have **you** felt this way?"  
Gohan had no idea how intense a blush could feel until that very moment.  
"...a **very** long time."

_Some time later..._  
"...I guess I thought you would think I was some little perv, that's why I never told you"  
Gohan hadleaned his head againstPiccolo's healed chest after Piccoo had regenerated his torn flesh. He had been recounting his explanation of why he had never told his beloved senseihow he felt.  
"What about you?" Gohan asked, looking upinto his mentor's thoughtful face. Piccolo smirked.  
"Same as you...only no masturbation." Piccolo said.  
Gohan stared for a few seconds before stifling a giggle.  
"What's so funny?" Piccolo asked indignately.  
"You said 'masturbate'."  
Piccolo shovedGohan a little, slightly shocked by his lack of maturity.

Gohan's laughter slowly subsided, and he returned to gazing into his love's obsidean eyes.  
"Piccolo," Gohan asked quietly, "Where do we go from here?"

* * *

okay I know, one freakin' short chapter. But this is one that I had to leave up to the loyal readers. Should Gohan and Piccolo tell their freinds first,or go straight into 'expressing' their love and tell everyone later? I've got equal number of ideas for both scenarios; but I'd like to know what all of **_you _**would like to see. Please don't send the suggestions via email, please put them into your reviews. Thank you. Remember, it's up too you! Thank you again for all of your reviews! 


	12. The Next Step

Gohan stared wide-eyed at Piccolo, he couldn't believe he'd just proposed...**THAT**! He felt like his whole world had just stopped while he processed what Piccolo had just said.

Piccolo sighed, he figured Gohan would take his suggestion this seriously. After all, it was a big step.  
"We have to..." His baratone voice echoing into Gohan's mind.  
"But...what...what if..."  
"No! If we're gonna do this, we're gonna do this right. We're not going to hide in fear like sewer rats."

Gohan stared at the opposite end of the cave, his head leaning on Piccolo's muscular chest, allowing his head to slowly move with the older man's breath.  
"We really gotta do this, huh?"  
He felt, rather than saw, Piccolo nod in silent agreement.  
Gohan felt his love's hands carefully guide his face up to meet his.  
"I will be with you."  
Gohan closed his eyes as he felt jade lips lightly brush his, and then he knew that he could do what Piccolo had asked him.

Both warriors landed carefully outside the Son residence, the younger of the two gulping whatever spit lingered in his dry mouth. But, Gohan wasn't the only one who was nervous. Piccolo couldn't even feel his teeth, he was so nervous.  
"Maybe you should be the one to open the door." Piccolo suggested.  
"Are you scared?" Gohan asked teasingly.  
"No, I'm not scared. I just have a feeling your mother has a special iron skillet she's been saving for just this occasion."

Gohan's hand felt especially sticky on the knob of the door. He had no idea how long his hand had stayed immobile on that knob before he had the strength to turn it.  
As soon as the door opened Gohan fell to the ground, an iron pot flying over his head accompanied by the screams of his mother.  
Piccolo side-stepped the flying objects as they flew threw the door at him; all the while repeating silently  
"This is for Gohan...This is for Gohan...This is for Gohan..."

Suddenly the objects stopped their succession, allowing Gohan to get up.  
"Gohan, sweetie, it's you." Chi-chi's voice echoed from the house.  
Chi-chi's hand slid up hereldest son's face, thanking the kais for returning him safe and...  
Chi-chi's thoughts stopped immediately when she saw the figure standing behind Gohan. "You!" she snarled, she gripped the extra-hard pan behind her back.

The whole room; Goku, Gohan, Chi-chi, and Piccolo; stood in the midst of the tension. Gohan and Goku both stared intensly at the woman and the namekijin before them, wondering which would make the first move. Their question was answered in a heartbeat.  
Piccolo's fingers twitched habitatually.  
The sound of the pan connecting with Piccolo's skull made both father and son flinch in sympathy.

Piccolo would be the first to admit that the hit threw him off balance, but he wouldn't give Chi-chi the pleasure of admitting it; he was just too proud.  
Chi-chi stood with her pan still at the ready, heaving great breaths from the effort required in slugging down the Demon King. She was just about to hit him again when a jade hand caught the pan mid-swing.  
"I think you've made your point." came the stoic comment from the namekijin. He quickly yanked the pan from the startled woman and tossed it out theopendoor.  
"Now if you'll just sit down,Gohan and I have something to tell you."  
Chi-chi and Goku both sat down on the small love seat and Gohan stood next to his jade hero.

_Some time later...  
_"...and so, I have been in love with Piccolo for many years, and for a long time he has felt the same about me."  
Gohan finished his story with a great sigh of relief. True to his nature, Piccolo had stood next to him in stoic silence. But, to Gohan, his very precence spoke volumes about what was swirling in his soul and mind.  
"What do you two think?" Gohan asked sheepishly to his parents.

Chi-chi fainted.  
Goku, on the other hand, looked absolutely ecstatic for his son. He stood andcrossed the room towards his son, all the while beaming a look of absolute pride. He placed his hand on his son's shoulder, smiling broadly in his usual fashion.He then turned his gaze up to Piccolo, who looked back at him as if he didn't know what to expect from him. Goku's lips moved almost innoticeably, and gave words that most mortals would never hear, but with his ears, Piccolo heard every word.  
Son's words sank deep into his mind, and Piccolo knew, would stay there for eternity;  
"Be good to my son."

Gohan and Piccolo both flew away from the Son house and towards the dessert again.  
"I think they took that rather well..." Gohan said innocently.

Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, in the destroyed bed of a forest, lay a daggar. A daggar filled with the soul of Piccolo Daimou. The Piccolo Daimou who'd grown stronger in the last few days. A Daimou who didn't need the daggar anymore.

The daggar began to shake of it's own power on the ground.  
A small crack forming on the sheath.


	13. He's Back

The dagger flipped and flopped around as it violently vibrated, the crack on it's sheath becoming larger and wider with every possible second. It began to hum as it worked so ferociously. Finally the crack became a massive hole opening all the way down to the end of the blade. A brilliant light erupted from the entire dagger, and in moments it had shattered. Daimou stood among the shards of the destroyed weapon.  
Daimou looked surprisingly calm for the moment. Looking around, he cracked his neck and stretched his muscles. He didn't move for several minutes afterwards, he simply stared straight ahead. The moon cast unholy shadows across his face and torso. Snarling, Daimou only uttered a single phrase:  
"The brat is dead."

Meanwhile, miles away,  
Piccolo stared happily at the face of Gohan's sleeping form.Gohan lay in a deep sleep, his head perched on Piccolo's thigh.This was what he had always dreamed of; he'd always wanted the boy this close to him. Gohan's face twitched into a grin, obviously enjoying the dream he was having. Piccolo reached down and stroked his face; he had never imagined in his whole life that the halflings' skin was so smooth. Piccolo sighed, everything about Gohan was indeed perfect.  
His ears twitched.

Piccolo's eyes fell towards the entrance of the cave; he could sense someone, or something, heading their way. He couldn't place the ki he was feeling, it certainly wasn't one of his fellow warriors, and no human had a power level that high. All at once he knew who it was.  
His eyes widened as his breathing picked up."I don't understand it, I thought the dagger would've...Kuso! Why didn't it work!" He thought vicously in his mind.  
He gently removed Gohan's head from his leg, and set it on the ground. He quietly made his way to the area just outside the cave. The moon shone brilliantly off his jade skin. Piccolo glanced back into the cave one last time, and took off in flight.

Daimou slowed his flight a few MPH when he felt the disgraced whelp flying in his direction. He chuckled. This was indeed going to be easier than he had imagined.

Piccolo growled under his breath. "Why can't he just die? Why can't he just leave me...Gohan...all of us alone?" Piccolo clenched his jaws a little tighter, he felt badly that he had left Gohan alone in that cave with no explanation; there was no way he was going to drag him into any more battles with his sire. This was now between them.

The desert winds were calm that night, so that the sands on the surface were barely shuffled within them. It was there that the two namekian warriors met face-to-face. Both hovered mid-air, with plenty of space in between the two of them. A smirk of anticipated pleasure donned the elders face, while a scowl of hatred marked the face of the younger.  
"Where's your precious bitch?"  
Piccolo seethed under the skin; his anger triggered by Daimou's referring to Gohan in such a manner. His fist clenched.  
Daimou chuckled, he certainly knew how to really get under his prodigy's skin.

Without warning, Daimou shot a ki blast at Piccolo's head. Turning his head calmly to the side, Piccolo easily avoided the blast.  
Piccolo fazed out of sight for a second, re-appearing with a kick aimed for Daimou's neck. A simple block from Daimou kept the kick from it's intended target. Both warriors stayed in that position for what felt like eternity, when in reality it was probably only a few seconds. The real battle then began.  
Daimou grabbed Piccolo's ankle, swinging him away from him and then charging him. Piccolo quickly recovered from being thrown, turning the instant he felt Daimou charge returning his charge with one of his own. Piccolo's fist found it's mark on Daimou's face.

Gohan's eyes twitched as he regained conciousness. He looked around in his groggy state for Piccolo; the fact that he was missing woke him up immediately. He then felt the wave of energy radiating out from the desert. He pulled himself to his feet, taking flight from a dead run. He wasn't going to lose Piccolo again.

Piccolo and Daimou backed off again, once again in an intense stare-down. They had fought hand-to-hand for a few minutes before Daimou had backed off. Piccolo had a bad feeling as to where this battle was going.  
Daimou chuckled out loud. Piccolo raised an eyebrow in confusion.  
"Watch this." Daimou commanded eerily. He raised a fist and punched himself hard in the stomach. To Piccolo's confusion, not only did Daimou flinch in pain, but he downright doubled over in pain.  
"What in the name of..." Piccolo asked in dismay.  
"Bakayaro. When you allowed me to have full control of your body, I was able to imprint myself onto you. Sort of like leaving a piece of myself behind." Daimou said sadistically.  
"I think things just got alot worse." Piccolo thought.

* * *

I am soooooo sorry for the wait. I have horrid writers block for the past few weeks, andI thank all the people who have waited so patiently for the next chapter. I hope this chapter makes up (at least partially :)) for the delay.

P.S.  
Kuso shit, damn, or dammit  
Bakayaro you idiot


	14. Tension in the Wilderness

Gohan growled as he raced towards the fight. He swore to himself that if Daimou had hurt his Piccolo that he would make sure the rest of his life was pure, un-adult rated hell.

Piccolo wracked his brain for a solution to end this fight once and for all. He knew that any attack would render him injured as well. The only real solution he could think of was out of the question; mostly because Piccolo didn't feel like committing suicide.  
Daimou didn't attempt to hide the smug smirk that crossed his features. He crossed his arms over his chest.  
"Don't tell me you're out of ideas already..." Daimou sneered.  
Piccolo snarled at him.

* * *

Meanwhile at Mt. Paozu:

Son Goku growled as he tried to make sense of the bettle that was taking place miles away. He could easily tell that there were two kisignatures that felt very similar, so he assumed those two to belong to Piccolo and Daimou. He also felt the ki signature of his oldest son heading at break-neck speed toward the two Piccolos.  
Goku didn't know how to help. He felt that if he went Daimou would take a stab at him, and if he didn't go Daimou would take a stab at him. His mind played the scenario that, if he should stay with his wife, Daimou would kill Piccolo and Gohan; He also saw the possibility that, if he should leave his home, Daimou would easily destroy his house and kill his wife.

He was distracted from his thoughts by Chi-chi.  
He had since moved her from the floor and onto the couch with a cool, wet washcloth pressed to her forehead.  
For an instant Goku wondered what the compress was for, remembering that he had only placed that on her forehead because he'd seen Bulma and the Ox King do it when Chi-chi had passed out in the past.

"G...Goku-sa...what's happening?" Chi-chi moaned.  
Goku responded in the only fashion he knew how: with brutal honesty.

"Honey, Piccolo is fighting his sire and he is possibly losing, Gohan is flying towards them at full speed, Daimou seems indestructible, if things don't go well I may have to step in, and we all may die."

Chi-chi proceeded to faint again.

* * *

Daimou uncrossed his arms and allowed the smirk to fade from his face.  
"You have no idea how to proceed here, do you?" He asked, sounding bored.  
Piccolo wasn't even sure how to respond, but the stunned look on his face must have said volumes to Daimou.  
The smile that crossed Daimou's face put an icy stab in Piccolo's heart.

Just as Daimou was about to speak again, Gohan showed up.  
Both Daimou and Piccolo looked stunned as Gohan's white ki dissipated from around him.  
"What's going on?" He asked suspiciously.

"I was just about to offer my whelp here a very, promising deal" Daimou sneered.  
"What kind of deal, you bastard?" Piccolo snarled.

"Let's face it boy, I only came up here because I wanted to see you suffer. Your entire life has been one giant dissapointment for me. "  
"Tell me something I don't know." Piccolo thought.  
"The main thing I wanted in the beginning was to see you defeat Son Goku, but now I see that he will be wished back with the dragonballs. Unfortunately I cannot dispose of those because I may need them in the future for whatever reason. Now the only thing I want is to see you in the most awful pain imagineable. "

Both Gohan and Piccolo stared at him suspiciously.  
"If you hurt me, it'll just injure you as well. Your own plan just bit you in the ass." Piccolo spit at him.

That awful smile curled around Daimou's face once again.

Daimou's arm shot out and wrapped four times around Gohan. He reeled him back in, and presented Gohan with a swift karate chop to the back of the neck.  
Gohan's vision blurred as he faded to unconciousness.

"Who said I was doing anything to you?" Daimou sneered at Piccolo before dissapearing back into hell, leaving Piccolo alone out in the middle of the wilderness with a horrified look on his face.

* * *

-Phew-  
I just wanted to clear things up at the end of this chapter. A few people have e-mailed me about why I didn't put Piccolo/ Gohan lemon scene in chapter 12 or 13 even though many of my reviewers requested that. I felt that if I had posted my lemon scene in this story, the story would've been reported and my account on this site would have been terminated.  
Please know I didn't simply ignore your requests, all of your kind words mean a lot to me as I continue this story. There will be a (cleaner) lemon in the next chapter or two, and I apologize to anyone who may have requested a lemon earlier, not recieved one, and had been upset by that.


	15. Torture

Gohan wasn't sure what awoke him first, the overwhelming humidity or the throbbing pain in the back of his skull. He made to rub the back of his head but that only served to make him aware of how his hands were bound above his head.

His eyes snapped open, and he looked around frantically. His breath hitched as he realized his arms were bound with ki-charged steel shackles that looped around the headboard of the bed he was currently kneeling upon. He pulled back, using all of his weight as leverage, attempting to break the bonds around his wrists. The sheets gave way under his repeated struggles until the once well made furniture was nothing more than a tangled mess.  
He sighed violently through his grit teeth, resting his forehead on the V his arms created.

And that's when he noticed his clothes were missing.  
Son Gohan let loose a stream of expletives, cursing everything and everyone who had succeeded in pissing him off the last few days.

"You're finally awake."

Gohan turned his head, meeting the eyes of a very cold Piccolo Daimou.

"Where's Piccolo? For that matter, where the hell am I?" Gohan demanded, spiking his ki for the intimidation value.

"Don't be so pissy." Daimou commanded, moving from the doorway to the bedside table.  
He picked up the medium sized, dark green bottle and poured a ruby-red liquid from it. Gohan noticed, with some disgust, that Daimou was pouring the liquid into the hollowed-out skull of a demonic creature. Daimou tipped the skull to his lips and drank greedily, not caring that a small stream slid past the corner of his mouth and slid down his throat.

"So, why did you bring me here?" Gohan asked angrily.

Daimou regarded him out of the corner of his eye for a moment, before reaching out and snatching a fistful of his hair. "What I brought you here for is none of **your** concern!" he snarled.

Daimou's hand maintained a steady grip on Gohan's hair, while he dug the talons in his free hand into Gohan's chest; he pulled his hand down slowly, relishing the way Gohan cried out in pained surprise. He slapped both of his cheeks mockingly.  
"You're stubborn, like your monkey father."  
He threw Gohan's head away from him in disgust. "Breaking you is going to be the highlight of my eternity down here."

"Breaking me? How do you plan on accomplishing that?"

Daimou showed just a hint of fang as he began to disrobe himself.

Gohna pulled away, fear gripping his entire form.

* * *

Piccolo had never flown so fast in his entire life. The wind sucked the very breath was sucked from his lungs as he reached his destination and began his ninety-degree ascension. He couldn't even think about his breathlessness, all he could do was replay the last moments wherein his Sire had effectively taken Gohan straight out from underneath him. Piccolo barely even registered the blink of power appearing next to him.

"Piccolo, I can't sense Gohan anymore! What happened?" Goku asked, panic evident in his voice.  
Piccolo didn't acknowledge his presence in the slightest, he kept his eyes straight ahead and focused on his destination.

"Piccolo, what happened to my son?" Goku asked, anger replacing some of his panic.

Receiving no answer, Son Goku did the next best thing: He grabbed Piccolo by the collar of his shirt, and punched him in the face.

Piccolo shook his head, trying to right what Goku had knocked loose. "Thanks, I needed that." he growled, resetting his jaw.

"No problem, now what happened to Gohan?" Goku asked, suddenly feeling more calm himself.

"I don't know." Piccolo admitted, "One second he was with my Sire and I, and the next Daimou grabbed him and disappeared. I...I don't know what happened. "

"So what is your plan?"

"Dende has the power to move between the Otherworld and ours without dying, he can transport me to where Daimou has taken Gohan." Piccolo stated.

"What should I do?" Goku asked.

"You should go with Dende and find out exactly how Daimou got into our world in the first place. It'll do us no good to kill him if he can weasel back here and start trouble again."

Goku nodded, agreeing with Piccolo's plan.

"The only difficult part will be sneaking i-"  
Piccolo's voice cut off midword, causing Goku to stare in alarm. Piccolo through his head back and howled in pain. He clutched at his head and clenched his eyes shut against the sensation.  
If Piccolo could have described the feeling he would have told Goku that it felt like being blasted by Nappa while being stabbed and sucked dry by Cell, all while listening to Gohan whistle his dancing dragon song to him. In short words: It fucking killed.

Minutes later as the sensations began to ebb in waves he could finally process the fact that Goku was shaking him and asking him what was wrong.

"I don't know, but I think someone's hurting Gohan."

* * *

Piccolo Daimou poured himself another skull-full of wine, sighing in contentment as he sipped it. He turned back to look at the young man on the bed.

Gohan stared blankly at the woodwork on the bedside table. He'd been staring at it's pattern for the past twenty minutes, trying desperately to block out what Daimou had done. Gohan didn't register that Daimou had spoken to him.

He gasped violently as he felt a slap ripple across his face.

"There you go, I thought you left me for a minute." Daimou sneered.

Daimou's eyes drank the broken body before him in; the bruises around his neck, the jagged claw marks along his back, the raw spots on his skin where he'd struggled with his bonds, the vicious bite marks lining the boys shoulders, and the blood that spilled over the boys' thighs in thick rivets.  
"And to think, that's just what his back looks like." Daimou thought happily.

"Good thing no one's come for you yet, I'm just getting started."

Without another word, Daimou turned and left the room, materializing a set of clothing as he did so.

Without Daimou there to see him, Gohan buried his face in the mattress and sobbed.

* * *

"That's the situation as we know it, Dende." Goku explained.

"You get us to the Otherworld, Piccolo will rescue Gohan, and You and I will find the entrance Diamou used to get to this world."

Dende nodded in agreement.

Not another word was spoken between the three, and they winked in between the living world and the Otherworld. They reappeared standing in front of a very confused King Yemma. Piccolo didn't stick around to make small talk, he jumped behind a small puff cloud heading southward.

The intense smell of sulfur and brimstone hit him with an intensity that would seldom be matched in his lifetime, the heat and humidity burned his skin for a moment feeling akin to a sunburn. He collapsed into a crouching position when he hit the ground. He ducked behind the nearest obstacle, attempting not to draw any more attention to himself than absolutely necessary. He caught his eye on a small path lined with demon bones, he had a feeling it would lead him to Daimou.

With a demonic snarl, Piccolo began running along the marked path.

He had only one thought on his mind as he felt the bones crunch beneath his feet; "You will pay for this Daimou, you will pay."


End file.
